Hearts of Black
by devdevlin
Summary: Bellatrix Black always knew she was special. It was only a matter of time before someone else saw it, too.
1. Chapter 1

**Um yes. Hi. I started writing another thing (I really need someone to tell me not to do these things).**

 **Anyway, I've been wanting to do this for ages, and finally I have been hit with some motivation, so here we go! This story will be, to the best of my ability, canon-compliant. And no, I am not including the Cursed Child when I say canon. For those of you who might have read my other work, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; you can consider this to be a prequel. You can consider Voldemort here to be one in the same with my other Voldemort. However, if you haven't read DMLE, and you're just here for some Bellamort; don't fret. You don't need to have read it. This will be a fully stand-alone piece in itself. Not to mention, DMLE is currently unfinished and it's pretty long winded, anyway...**

 **I hope you enjoy this. This is my first shot at writing Bellatrix and I hope I can capture her acceptably. Please let me know your thoughts, or if I'm failing abysmally. Feedback makes me a better writer and I would love the opportunity of speaking with you :)**

* * *

Bellatrix Black stared at her reflection.

Narcissa had done her makeup much too light for her liking, and so she didn't hesitate in snatching up the kohl liner herself and applying a second coating by hand.

 _There_.

 _Much better._

Cissy, and even Andy for that matter, had always insisted she looked much nicer with _less_. A little bit of blush and a soft shade of lipstick, and she could be the prettiest girl in the room, they said.

Bella vehemently disagreed. She liked the way the dark eyeliner complemented her eyes, and her hair. She liked the way the smoky look added to her mystery. She liked the way the boys in her classes and her father's friends would double take, unused to seeing such an exotic looking girl – no, _woman_ – in their midst. It made it clear; she was not like the others. She was different.

 _Special._

And if there was any single word that could come close to describing Bellatrix Black, it was _special._

She'd always known she was destined for greatness, but as she glanced down at the ancient, white, flouncy dress her mother had insisted on, it was almost a challenge to remind herself of that fact.

Her frowning was interrupted as the door behind her opened with a thud.

"Oops." Narcissa stumbled in, seeming to struggle with the size of her own dress and the small doorway.

"Did you get it?"

"Yes," Narcissa said once all of the fabric of her skirts were in, lifting the bottom of her dress to pull a wand from her knee-highs. "I had to wait until father needed the bathroom to get it. For once, his morning drinking proved to be most fortunate."

Bellatrix took her wand from her sister and the turning in her stomach settled ever so slightly at their reunion.

 _Two halves of a whole._

She turned back toward her reflection. With her wand, she was able to fix the small smudge of black she'd left on her cheek from her finger as if it had never been there at all.

"You look unearthly, my dear," the mirror announced.

Bella's lips tugged in a smile at the mirror's assessment.

 _Unearthly._

Not what she'd been going for, but perhaps it was better that way.

Satisfied, she turned back to her sister. Narcissa gave her a small, sad smile. "We can still run away, Bell. You don't have to do this-"

"Nonsense," Bella said at once, tucking her wand into the bodice of the dress. "Today, I am honouring my family. As will you, when the time comes."

"But – but, father could find someone else, someone _nicer_ , someone a bit less-"

"Rodolphus is a fine man, and I am lucky to have him," she said, reaffirming the words her mother and father had said to her the night before. "I am thrilled to take on the name of Lestrange."

Narcissa frowned disbelievingly but didn't say anything more as offered Bella her hand.

Once more, Narcissa struggled with the doorway, but she didn't let it weaken her hold on her sister. The small bedroom opened up into the upper floor of the Lestrange manor which, thankfully, had hallways wide enough for the combined width of the sister's dresses.

At the foot of the grand staircase, their parents awaited them. While their mother beamed up at them, Bella didn't miss how her father swayed on the spot ever so slightly.

Once on the ground level, her mother gripped Bella's other hand. "You are the perfect bride."

"Thank you, mother."

Her father – now leaning against the railing of the stairs and no longer swaying – narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. His lips thinned, and Bella knew had it not been for her mother's shrieking the night before about him not causing a scene, he would've scolded them for the thievery of her wand.

"You are ready?" He asked instead, his words surprisingly distinct for how intoxicated he looked.

"Yes, father."

He pushed off of the railing and offered his elbow. She took it and didn't keep her sigh quiet as his weight pressed on her.

It was supposed to be _him_ walking _her_ to her new husband.

Her mother and sister left hand in hand, leaving her alone supporting her father.

He smelled like firewhisky.

"We are to wait here-" he said, gesturing toward the double doors her mother and Narcissa had disappeared through, "until told otherwise."

"And," Bella started as she guided them to wait by the doors, "how, exactly, are we to be told?"

"How'm I supposed to know?"

She didn't bother to be subtle with her eye roll.

They stood in silence for an uncomfortable amount of time. She was sure this would have been the moment a loving father wished his daughter luck, or whispered words of encouragement.

But a loving father, Cygnus Black was not, and instead they continued to wait in heavy silence.

A soft creaking sound came from the double doors and Bella's heart leapt. And then they opened.

The first thing she noticed was that the hall was full. Rows and rows of attendees turned to watch simultaneously as the doors revealed their presence. She turned to her father.

"I suppose that's how we're to be told," he mumbled before clearing his throat.

Loudly swallowing down her nerves, Bella began to guide them down the narrow aisle. Her father, much to her relief, seemed to sober at the hundreds of eyes on him. She was struck by how many she didn't know. She knew half of the guests must have been Rodolphus', but she was still surprised that she didn't even seem to recognise a quarter of them.

Her parents' doing, she supposed. It wouldn't be unlike them to use the wedding of their eldest daughter as a social event for their own purposes.

Attendees whispered amongst each other out of the corner of their mouths as they passed, all the while keeping their eyes locked on her. Exchanging remarks on her hideous dress, without doubt.

Still, she held her chin high – high as any pureblooded witch ought to. Her father may have been a drunkard, but he was still well-respected, and she was still his first-born. She would take their respect, even if they did not give it.

It was her birthright.

Rodolphus waited at the end with a purple-robed wizard, who, by his age, she assumed to be the officiant. He was watching her closely, hungrily, despite the awful dress.

She might not have been able to select her husband, but at least she would have one who lusted for her. She wasn't sure if it would be a blessing or a curse, but it was more than her mother and her bitter old friends could say, and that alone made it enough to please her.

They reached the end of the aisle without her father tripping. Her mother would be thrilled.

He passed her hand into Rodolphus', and she was grateful for it. He, at least, was not drunk. He didn't use her to hold him up. His hands were not sweaty.

The officiant then began to speak, and Bella took in none of it. She'd been to her fair share of weddings – her cousin's, mostly – and she knew the script. Instead, she focused on the stitching of Rodolphus' robes as his fingers moved under her palms. They massaged her skin as if he were mapping the shape of her hands, tracing over the palm lines.

She found it oddly reassuring.

"Do you, Rodolphus Roderick Lestrange, take Bellatrix Irma Black as your bond for life?"

He didn't hesitate. "I do."

"And do you, Bellatrix Irma Black, take Rodolphus Roderick Lestrange as your bond for life?"

"I do."

The official stepped aside to draw a long, slender knife from the alter of the hall, and for the first time in the ceremony, Bella met Rodolphus' eyes. They were dark, like hers. The corner of his mouth twitched upward, and although it didn't give her butterflies, or tingles, or anything else women in books were described to have felt when they were in love, it at least was reassuring.

As was custom, the official began with the male. A long slice across his palm, and deep red pooled on Rodolphus' skin.

The official next turned to her, and she eyed the droplet of Rodolphus' blood that was slowly forming on the knife's point.

Regardless, Bella offered her hand. She was not afraid of the pain.

The old man was quick. He ran the knife over her palm in a rapid flick, and brought her hand back together with Rodolphus'.

She felt the moment their blood began to mix. The heat of the cut intensified at their contact, and she winced at the sting as she felt a strange heaviness as magic grew between them. She could feel the path it took, like a fine thread; it wrapped around her hand, between the bones of her fingers and up around her wrist. Tendrils of magic threaded upward and upward, past her elbow and over her shoulder, upward and onward until it stopped in her chest.

She met Rodolphus' eyes. He didn't look as composed as he had been moments earlier and she knew; he'd felt it, too.

"You may now exchange your rings," the officiant said.

Rodolphus released her hand to dig in his pocket. She took the opportunity to inspect her hand, expecting to see it dripping with their blood. But it wasn't. The cut had healed, and only a small patch of drying blood remained.

Rodolphus took her hand once more and slipped the ring onto her finger, a golden band slightly too thick for her liking with a dark sapphire in the middle. It was a meaningless band of metal, one which added nothing to the magical bond. Instead, it was a marking. A collar, of sorts, to mark her status to others, to make it clear that she was no longer her own.

She belonged to someone.

She felt oddly numb.

"I declare you bonded for life."

And Bellatrix Black was no more.


	2. Chapter 2

An hour into the reception, and Bella still hadn't been able to catch either of her sisters. Instead, she was stuck, _glued_ to Rodolphus' side, forced to smile politely and thank each of their guests, one by one.

It was a hard effort to hide her scowl.

She must've spoken to at least fifty strangers, all of whom spoke to her as if they knew her. At least half of them touched her. With each hug, Bella's patience slowly dissipated.

At a distance, she could make out Narcissa's distinctively purple dress toward the dance floor. She watched as she tipped her head back and laughed at something the young Malfoy heir had said.

Her sister was lucky. She had known the boy she was set to marry for almost half of her life. They had a friendship, one which would surely only grow as they aged together.

She glanced at Rodolphus. It wasn't as if he was a _stranger_ , but they'd still only spoken a handful of times before they married. He was six years her elder, leaving her without the benefits Narcissa had of attending school with her betrothed.

Still. Regardless of how she felt about him himself, she knew there were benefits of becoming a Lestrange. Benefits that far outweighed the cons. She'd been reminding herself of all of them in the months leading up to the wedding, and it wasn't as if he were completely unattractive. It could have been worse.

Father could've chosen a Goyle.

" _Darling_ ," a shrill voice cooed from her left and she very nearly groaned. "Don't you just look wonderful? Doesn't she look _wonderful_ , Orion?"

"Yes, of course," he agreed, his tone bored.

"Thank you, auntie," Bella forced out. "Thank you, uncle."

"You've made the House of Black so proud, dear," Walburga went on, and Bella gritted her teeth as she patted her on the shoulder.

"It is all any of us should hope for," she said, her agreeance distracting from her unenthused tone.

"Very true, very true," Walburga muttered as her eye was caught by another of the guests. "Orion, do you suppose that's Ursula Gamp over by the fireplace, by any chance?"

"It might be."

"Come along, then. I'm sure she's dying to hear all about Alphard…"

They disappeared into the crowd and Bella nearly sighed in relief.

"Rodolphus." She placed a hand over his chest in a way she knew men liked. "Would you be ever so kind as to fetch me a glass of wine?" She asked, knowing their time without any guests to speak to was limited.

"Certainly. I'll only be a moment," he gave her a warm smile and left her side for the first time in the evening.

This time, she _did_ sigh in relief.

She took the short moment of solitude to shift the positioning of her wand in her dress that had ridden toward her armpit and had begun to dig in painfully.

If only she were able to use it on half of their guests.

"Bella."

She glanced up to see her father. Really, it was her own fault for expecting a moment to herself. She _was_ the bride.

"Father," she greeted him with tight lips, her eyes drawing toward the goblet in his hand.

"You did very well today."

She straightened.

 _Praise._

Was that truly, _praise?_ From her _father?_

"Houses Black and Lestrange are one again, at last," he announced as he waved his arms, a splash of butterbeer spilling over the edge of his goblet. "All thanks to me."

The small sprout of hope shrivelled up in her chest and she could fight her scowl no longer.

But then her saviour - who was neither a knight nor wearing armour - swooped in.

"Sir," Rodolphus greeted, offering Bella a flute of champagne.

She all but snatched it from his hand. Merlin knew, she needed it.

"Rodolphus," her father gruffed before taking a long swig of his beer. "I'm glad you're here. Tell me; how is Rabastan?"

"He is well. I just passed him by the bar, actually," Rodolphus said with growing amusement. "You'll probably find him there for the rest of the night."

"Good man," her father commented. "At the Ministry now, I hear?"

"Yes, sir. He's taken up an apprenticeship in the Department of Mysteries."

Bella took two consecutive mouthfuls of wine in the hopes it would make her father disappear faster. Or, at the very least, trick her into thinking their conversation interesting.

"He'd be down in the basement with Rookwood then, I believe. Last I heard, he's unspeak–"

A pale hand appeared on her father's shoulder, interrupting whatever else he was going to say about Rookwood, and for a split second, Bella sympathised for the one foolish enough to touch Cygnus Black without invitation.

"Cygnus," the man to whom the hand belonged said in greeting, a set of straight white teeth visible between his lips. "It has been much too long, my friend."

But her father did not react the way she expected him to. Instead, at the sight of the other man, he froze.

It was the strangest thing.

At first, Bella didn't think much of him. He was just another stranger. She registered that he was attractive, though the lines on his skin told her he must've been around her father's age. With the contrast of his dark hair and exceedingly pale skin, it suited him far better that it did her father.

But then upon further inspection, she noticed there was something… different about him. He had a strange aura about him, and she almost thought that she might've been able to _feel_ his magic from where she stood.

But that wasn't the strangest thing about him, no.

For the strangest thing about him were his eyes.

They were _red._

Her father bowed his head, ever so subtly. "M-my Lord."

Her gasp surely must have been audible.

 _The Dark Lord._

In the flesh.

Bella had heard his legend, of course. She'd heard countless stories from the days when her father's friends had gathered in their living room, and she and Cissy had crept out of bed to eavesdrop. She'd heard arguments between her mother and father, ones where he'd warned her that soon the world would see that the Dark Lord would one day be the greatest wizard who ever lived. How he was to be the saviour of the wizarding community, how he would cleanse them of the unpure, and it was vital to be on the right side when it happened.

But she'd also heard her mother spit back about how he'd then vanished without a trace. How ten years later, still, no one had heard from him.

She hadn't been able to contain her curiosity. She'd asked her father about him the very next day. _Where has he gone?_ _If he's all you say, why isn't he here? Why isn't he doing anything?_

That had been the one and only time she'd been foolish enough to question her father of the Dark Lord. That had been the only time her father ever hit her.

"I confess myself offended," the Dark Lord said, his hand still on her father's shoulder. "You didn't think to invite me to the wedding of your daughter?"

Her father shook his head before he lowered it further. "My... my sincerest apologies. Had... had I known you were back... you would have been the first, of course... I just didn't wish to bother you, My Lord, you are a busy man, I…"

The Dark Lord watched him for a moment, his teeth digging into his bottom lip as if he quite liked the sight of her father grovelling. But then he smiled. "It's quite all right, Cygnus. We are old friends, are we not?"

"Yes! Yes of course," her father stammered before turning to his new son-in-law. "Please, allow me... you remember Rodolphus?"

"Yes, how could I forget?" He said, offering the same pale hand that had been on Cygnus' shoulder to Rodolphus. "Congratulations on your marriage, Mr. Lestrange. I do hope I haven't overstepped…"

"N-no," Rodolphus stammered, taking his hand in a quick shake. "Not at all. You are most welcome at the manor of Lestrange. Whenever you wish it."

"That is most kind of you."

Cygnus cleared his throat. "And my daughter, Bellatrix."

His red eyes became focused on her.

Something warm awakened low in her stomach.

"Ah," he sounded, offering her his hand. "The young Mrs. Lestrange."

As if on autopilot, she placed her hand in his and was struck by how cool his skin was. His touch was light, gentle and barely there. He brought her knuckles to his lips and pressed the lightest of kisses to her skin.

"It's a pleasure to meet you at last," she said, being sure to add, "My Lord."

"The pleasure is wholly mine." His words were silk.

It felt like her heart was in her throat.

But then he released her hand and the moment passed. As quickly as they had found her, his eyes moved back to Rodolphus.

"Mr. Lestrange," he began, and Bella immediately felt a lurching wave of jealously. "I was very sorry to hear of your father's passing. My condolences."

"Thank you. It was very sudden."

"Abraxas has been kind enough to offer to host a bit of a... catch up, of sorts, next week. It's a shame your father can't be there, but... your brother has expressed his interest," the Dark lord said, his eyes unwavering. "I'd like for you to come along, too."

She noticed Rodolphus stiffen. Still, to her relief, he said, "it would be an honour."

"Wonderful," the Dark Lord smiled, though it was odd. It didn't quite reach his eyes. "I look forward to it."

Rodolphus smiled, but it was stiff and forced. Though if it bothered the Dark Lord, he didn't say so.

"Come, Cygnus," he said at last. "I daresay we've intruded upon the newlyweds for quite long enough. I am in need of a drink."

And with one last glance, he was directing her father back in the direction of the bar.

Bella watched them as they left. Her eyes didn't leave the Dark Lord's form until he'd been swallowed up by the crowd and they were forced to.

The lungful of air she didn't realise she'd been holding released in a long sigh. Beside her, Rodolphus was still rigid, his breathing heavy.

She turned to him having almost forgotten he was there, her brows furrowed. "Are you all right?" She asked.

"I... I don't quite know what to make of that."

"Don't fret," she said, the green still swelling inside of her. "You have been asked to attend a gathering by he, himself. It is the greatest of honours."

"I… I think I also need a drink."

And then he too was disappearing into the crowd, and she was alone.

She wasn't certain that was what she wanted, anymore.

* * *

She thought of the Dark Lord on her wedding night, once all of the guests had finally left them.

She hadn't planned on it. It had just... happened.

Two nights before her wedding day when her father had gone out to see Abraxas Malfoy and Narcissa and Andromeda had gone to the library together, her mother had given her some advice.

 _Think of a happier place after the wedding, when he comes for you. It'll be over before you know it. You might even enjoy it._

She'd thought it silly advice at the time. Why on earth would she need to think of a happier place? She was to be married, and her husband's desires were to be welcomed.

But after the guests had gone home, and Rodolphus had steered her to his bedroom and dismissed even the elves, she wasn't feeling as happy as she'd expected to feel. He began to undress her, and her mood only worsened, so Bella decided to heed her mother's advice.

It has started innocently. She pictured his deep eyes and his dark suit and his dark hair. But then, as Rodolphus pressed sloppy, drunken kisses down her neck, she thought of how he looked at her, how his hand had felt under her fingers, how his touch had been light and considerate.

And then she pictured his hair and how it'd look if it were to be tousled. She thought of the feeling of his lips on her knuckles.

When Rodolphus pulled his shirt off to reveal a lightly haired, pale chest, she pictured _his_ broad shoulders and how they might look without his robes in the way. She thought of his pale skin and how she would surely be able to trace his veins beneath.

She thought of his gentle hands on her body instead of Rodolphus' rough ones, and how his gentle kisses might have compared to Rodolphus' moist ones.

She thought of his silken voice when Rodolphus pushed inside of her, and how the pain might have felt, had it been _him_ instead.

She thought of him uttering her name, and him gasping against her. She thought of him sucking her skin into his mouth and nipping her with his teeth. She thought of him groaning in her ear, she thought of him not being able to get enough, she thought of him becoming undone.

She thought of him until she could think no more.

And as her new husband rolled off of her and fell quickly asleep, Bella decided that her mother had been right all along.

She had thought of a happier place. She had even enjoyed it.


	3. Chapter 3

Bellatrix had never been so bored in all of her life.

That day - like almost every other day for the last three months - she had the entirety of Lestrange Manor all to herself. Aside from the elves, of course, though they hardly made for any worthwhile company.

The dark halls of the Manor and the creaking in the wind only added to the home's loneliness and Bella found herself cursing all of her family who had left her.

Her sisters still had two more months at Hogwarts until Christmas break, and she'd already written both of them their daily letters.

Rodolphus was out working at the bank.

Rabastan was at the Ministry, along with her father.

Mother was out with Walburga, as per usual, and although Bella's loneliness was reaching a high, she didn't think herself so lonely as to resort to lunches with her auntie. Not yet, at least.

She'd never been one to have many friends. At school, she'd spent the majority of her time with the boys, being one of only four Slytherin girls of her year. But now, as she lay in the centre of her bed with her arms flayed to the side thinking about how they were all _happy_ and _busy_ with their _careers_ , she found herself in a deep state of regret.

She should have just listened to Isla Selwyn's prattle and been done with it. Even Selwyn family gossip would have been better than being as isolated as she was.

Groaning at her own ridiculous thoughts, Bella forced herself up from the bed. She passed out into the hall, fingers running over the rough stone wall as she went. She'd already roamed the entire Manor, numerous times. She'd already combed through each and every room she had access to, aside from the elves' quarters. She'd even taken to reading about household charms in the downstairs library, but once she'd gotten the hang of altering her gowns and her ribbons to match, she'd grown bored of that, too.

There was nowhere left. There was nothing new to explore in her luxurious prison, and for a moment, Bella considered going outside to roam the gardens.

But then she reached a familiar black door at the end of the hall.

 _Rabastan's room._

She hadn't been through Rabastan's room. He kept it securely warded at all times, even when he was occupying it. Her brother-in-law wasn't the most social of men, but over the last few months of living with him, she'd easily picked up that he was quite the proficient wizard.

Getting past his wards would surely be a challenge.

For the first time that day, she smiled.

If there was one thing Bella truly adored, it was a challenge.

* * *

Three days.

She cracked through his pathetic wards in three days, and when Bella turned the doorknob to hear a click followed by the door cracking open, she found herself more disappointed than proud.

He'd gone for a runic based warding system, one which, admittedly, had been difficult to spot. The shortcomings of runic wards, however, were that once their weak point had been located and the rune identified, it was almost child's play to take them down. Replacing the wards on her way out would be tricky, but Bella was certain of her abilities.

Rabastan wouldn't suspect a thing once she was done.

She pushed the old door open with a long fingernail and crept into the room... but had to stop after the first step.

His room was a mess. By the state of it, she guessed that he must've instructed the elves not to enter.

Her excitement ever so slowly began to creep back in. What was he keeping that was so secret that not even the elves were permitted to see?

She stepped through the space lightly, careful not to tread on any clothing or papers that might leave a trail on her way. She scanned the mess as she passed, most of it being disappointingly mundane. Dirty socks. Discarded books. Scrunched up sheets of parchments.

Her nose crinkled.

Eventually she made it through the maze of mess to his desk - or at least she assumed it was a desk underneath the mountain of papers - and gently began to sift through the parchments. There were newspapers, cuttings of a few Ministry employees she recognised, parchments with Rabastan's handwriting, and-

Her eyes widened at a particular letter underneath a granted request for a port key allowance by the Ministry. It looked... important. Thick parchment, neatly addressed in cursive, wax seal. It was one of the few envelopes on the desk that wasn't damaged in anyway.

With the first true spark of excitement she'd had all week, Bella snatched it up and pulled out the letter inside, immediately beginning to read.

She didn't make it past the third line before her stomach dropped.

 _It was from the Dark Lord._

It had to be.

 _Rabastan,_  
 _Room 284 Insworth Keep, Knockturn Alley._  
 _18th August, 11.00 pm._  
 _Come alone._  
 _-LV_

LV. _Lord Voldemort._

She traced over his handwriting with her finger tips, over and over again, carving the lines and loops into her mind so that she would not forget. She reached his signature – just two letters – and was almost afraid to touch them.

Over the last few months, Bella thought of him often. She hadn't had the opportunity to see him again, not since that night, but she still remembered how it had felt to be in his presence. How she'd been able to feel his magic, his power.

While she hadn't seen him, she knew he was still around, hadn't yet vanished again. After Rodolphus' first meeting, they seemed to become a regular occurrence. Every few weeks, he and Rabastan would leave in the night, leaving her alone in the manor, burning with jealousy.

And then one night, only a month ago, Rodolphus had come to bed to reveal a tattoo on his arm.

She'd instantaneously recognised it. She'd seen the very same mark on her father's arm countless times.

 _The Dark Mark._

That was the first night that Bella did not need to pretend to want Rodolphus.

The letter still in hand, her eyes bored into it. Just like her husband, the parchment in her hands had been _his._ The ink on the page had been _his._

She looked back around the room and bit her lip in thought. She didn't want to part with the letter. She wanted something, anything for herself, even if it was addressed to Rabastan. Anything to prove to herself she hadn't imagined him. And by the date, the letter wasn't a recent one. Rabastan would no longer need it.

It would be so easy to take it with her.

But Bella was not a fool, and so, she took her wand from the inside of her robe and directed it at the parchment.

" _Geminio._ "

The parchment split into two identical copies.

She smiled at her handiwork.

Bella folded up the original and put it with her wand back into the inner pocket of her robe. She gently folded up the copy and put it back in the envelope before she tucked it back under the pile on Rabastan's desk.

Back in her bedroom later that evening, once she'd cast an acceptable set of new wards (which, if she were being honest, were probably stronger than Rabastan's originals), Bella drew the letter out once more, tracing over the letters as she had done earlier.

She burned with jealousy. How was it that _Rabastan_ , someone who couldn't even cast a ward sufficient enough to keep _her_ out, had been chosen to be _his?_ How was it that _Rodolphus_ had been chosen, while she instead was wasting away in a barren old manor?

 _It wasn't fair._

Had she been born a man, she'd have been pushed into working for the Ministry the day she graduated from Hogwarts. Had she been born a man, her father would have had her pledging her loyalty as soon as she was old enough to speak.

She was a _Black._ The eldest born of _Cygnus Black._ She was far more deserving to serve the Dark Lord than both of the Lestrange spawn put together!

But then, amongst her bitter, angry thoughts, Bella had an idea. A dangerous, _beautiful_ idea.

She was a _Black._ It was her _duty_ to serve in the cleansing of the wizarding community.

What was stopping her from pledging her loyalty?

Since when had she _ever_ let a man stop her from doing what she wanted?

She was a _Black._

Why _couldn't_ she be his, too?

* * *

A week later and Bella was surer than she had ever been sure of anything. She hadn't been able to focus on anything else, and now that she'd finally returned to her old home for their weekly family dinner, it was time to _act._

While she knew she could've asked Rodolphus or even Rabastan, Bella decided she would first start by asking her father. He had attended Hogwarts with the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord had referred to him as an old friend at her wedding. Out of all the men she was well acquainted with, her father had the best standing with the Dark Lord, and she was sure her chances of success would be better with his endorsement.

Besides, she could always ask Rodolphus if her father said no.

She waited patiently throughout dinner, making pleasant conversation with her mother and auntie and uncle, until after dessert and her father had excused himself.

"And then I said to Ursula," Walburga was saying, "'You let one into your home, and then what's next? Mudbloods, and Muggles, too?' Honestly, as if she would even _consider_ that half-blood for dear Marion. If _my_ daughter came home with one, I'd send her right on her way. Isn't that right, Orion?"

"Yes, dear."

"Excuse me, mother," Bella said quietly, getting up and heading in the direction of the bathroom.

Once she was out of her mother's eye line, she took a left instead of a right, down the hall that led straight to her father's study until the sounds of Walburga's chatter faded out.

The door to his study was slightly ajar. She poked her head in.

He was sitting lazily in his favourite armchair, Daily Prophet in hand. His eyes were narrowed, and his forehead adorned with deep lines, but she didn't let that intimidate her. She knocked anyway.

Her father grunted. Taking that as an invitation, Bella entered, hands folded timidly behind her back.

"Father." She curtsied, giving him her sweetest smile.

"Bella," he gruffed, his eyes only momentarily looking up to her from his paper.

"I didn't get the chance to say it over dinner, but I hope you've been well," she said sweetly. "Being out of home, I haven't had the chance to see you as often as I would like to. I find myself worrying quite-"

"Out with it," he said, cutting her off abruptly as he lowered his newspaper to his lap. "What is it that you want?"

She could have denied it. She could have said 'nothing', that she was simply ensuring her father was well and continued on as a doting daughter until he was in a better mood.

But that wasn't the way one handled Cygnus Black if they wanted their way, and so Bella dropped her smile and her shoulders, and said, straight to the point, "I wish to pledge myself to the Dark Lord."

His face remained black. But then the greying hairs of his short beard began to twitch, and he _laughed._

"You are a woman."

She shifted her weight to her other leg. "Yes, I'm well aware of that, thank you."

His laughter grew louder.

"Your place is here. Your duty to the Dark Lord is to carry on the bloodlines of Black and Lestrange."

It wasn't like she hadn't expected her father to say as much. But it still stung.

"I don't need to be a housewife to bear children, father," she said, stepping further into the room.

"Don't be ridiculous," he said, giving her his full attention as he put his paper down onto his side table at last. "His service is no place for you."

"But I was the top student in my entire year!" She protested, unable to keep her voice down. "My marks far exceeded Rodolphus'! And Rabastan's for that matter!"

"Your marks in _school_ have absolutely nothing to do with it."

"Well then tell me what it is! I am ten times the witch than they are wizards, and they were _invited_ to serve!"

"Bella..."

"Don't you want your children to follow in your footsteps? You've always wanted a son to carry the Black name, and I'm sorry I couldn't give you that, but _this_ is something I can give you!"

"I will not be discussing this, Bella!" He yelled, his voice booming in a way that reminded her painfully of his scoldings when she'd been a child. "Your duty is here. That is the end of it."

With the beginnings of a hollow ache in her chest, Bella grudgingly nodded.

She knew a losing battle when she saw one.

"Thank you for your time, father," she said quietly, failing to keep the bitterness out of her voice, before immediately leaving the study and closing the door behind her.

As she stepped back down the hall toward, she could hear the echo of the loud cackling of her auntie.

She sighed.

At least she still had Rodolphus.

* * *

The very next day, she waited until her husband was just about to get into bed before she joined him in the bedroom.

His schedule was incredibly predictable, and she found him right where she wanted him. In the process of undoing his tie, Rodolphus stood on the far side of the room facing his dresser, his outer robes discarded on the bed.

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and padded over toward him, stopping behind him to wrap her hands around his torso. She ran her hands along the front of his shirt, feeling the muscles beneath relaxing under her touch, and pressed a kiss to his shoulder blade.

He turned to face her properly once his tie was off, and she didn't stop him when he kissed her. She kissed him back, slowly, sweetly, until his hands were gripping the sides of her waist.

"Roddy," she murmured against his lips slowly, seductively, pulling back to scratch her nails gently up his forearms.

"My love?" The depth of his voice told her he she had him, and he pressed kisses on the skin of her neck.

"I wanted to ask you something."

"Well then," he drawled, his teeth catching on the skin over her collarbone, "ask away."

"I was thinking... now that you are my family... I want to help you. You and Rabastan."

She felt his smile on her skin. "You can help me by taking this off," he said between kisses, his hands tugging at the fabric of her dress.

"That's not what I mean, I... I wish to pledge myself," she announced before he went past the point of return. "To the Dark Lord's service."

His kisses halted.

He pulled back to meet her eyes, his features giving away that what she'd said most definitely hadn't been what he'd expected her to say. Slowly, his lips spread in a smile, as if he, too, was about to laugh.

But then he seemed to notice her expression. "You... you're serious?"

"I am."

"But... Bella... _my love_... what about the children?"

"We do not have children. And I am not with child. I am almost eighteen years old, there is plenty of time for that."

"But..."

"These things take time, Roddy. My mother didn't have me until she was twenty-three, not for lack of trying. If we are to be similar, I will be alone in this manor for five years."

"You have your sisters. And your mother, and myself-"

"I want to bring pride to my family. To _our_ family," she said, struggling to keep her voice level. "I will be bored here. I _am_ bored here. I will be wasted here."

His eyes searched hers. "Bella... there aren't any women in the circle... his service is a place for men."

"There are certain things that can only be accomplished by a woman," she insisted. "And I am no ordinary woman."

"I know," Rodolphus said. "I know that, I do. But..."

"Please, Roddy. I need this," she said desperately, her eyes as round as she could make them. "Please."

He looked pained. "If... if this is what you wish, then... I suppose the decision must be his."

A spark, bright and dangerous formed in the pit of her stomach.

"Yes," she agreed, unable to keep the elation out of her voice. "Yes, it must be his decision. But, as you know, in order to pledge myself, I must see him, myself. And... I know what your marks can do..." she said, her voice becoming gentle. "Father told us, when we were little girls-"

"No," Rodolphus said suddenly as he realised what she wanted, his expression sobering. "I won't."

"Please," she gripped his arm, her eyes pleading. "Father has refused me. But you, Roddy, you would never-"

"No." He pulled out of her grip, stepping back toward the door. "I will not risk such a thing."

"It's the only way!"

"You haven't seen his displeasure as I have! I've only just taken the mark. If I am to summon him for something he sees as trivial... you don't know what it is you're asking of me!"

"What if... if you can't summon him, then... couldn't you just take me with you next time? To one of his meetings?"

He looked at her as if she had lost her mind.

"Bringing in an outsider would be just as foolish, Bella."

A soft whimper escaped her throat as she tried to think of something, _anything._

She needed this.

She _needed_ this.

"I won't stop you from offering your service, if that is what you truly wish," Rodolphus said eventually, turning his back on her and heading toward the bed. "But I won't help you. You will do it on your own terms, in your own time, or else we shall both suffer the consequences."

Slowly, reluctantly, she nodded.

She didn't say anything more as she moved to her side of the bed and removed her dress. He didn't say anything either.

He must've said it to make her happy, she decided bitterly as she curled up underneath the quilt on her side. That way, he wasn't rejecting her, but it would still be impossible for her to offer her service.

But Bellatrix had been underestimated her entire life, and there was nothing like desperation to drive people to do incredible things.

She could find the Dark Lord on her own. She would find a way. No magic had ever properly stumped her.

Bella reached her hand underneath her pillow to stroke the rough parchment of the Dark Lord's letter.

She was sure of it.

She would find him.


	4. Chapter 4

**I have written over ten thousand words for this in less than a week. I think that's a new personal best ahaha I'm not sorry.**

* * *

The next week, Bella spent almost all of her waking hours in the Lestrange library.

The answer she needed must've been there somewhere. All she needed to do, was find it.

The first course of action she considered was the possibility of tracing the Dark Lord himself. It was the most direct solution to her predicament, so it stood to reason that it would be the best way forward. But upon further investigation, she soon discovered that the spell was dependent on the caster having either a personal item or a sample of the person himself.

That ruled that one out.

She next entertained the notion of tracking Rodolphus or Rabastan, but quickly tossed that idea, too. Though she hated to admit it, Rodolphus had been probably been right about the consequences of such a thing. Her father would never forgive her if she lost both Houses of Black and Lestrange their favour with the Dark Lord.

Wherever her solution was hiding, she knew it had to be something she could do entirely on her own.

She strongly considered taking a trip to Knockturn Alley to visit the address the Dark Lord had written in his letter to Rabastan. She decided there was no harm in passing by, but visiting the actual property probably wasn't the best idea. For all she knew, the room at the keep had been rented room for a single night's stay.

And so, in the meanwhile she read. She read each day until her eyes burned, after which, she'd instruct the elves to fetch her a cup of coffee, and then she'd read some more. She read over breakfast and she read over dinner. She read into all hours of the night, crawling into bed long after Rodolphus had fallen deeply asleep.

He didn't ask her what she was up to, but she was fairly certain it was only because he already knew. Rabastan, on the other hand, seemed to have absolutely no qualms with bothering her.

"Whatever are you doing in here?" He asked after a week of her reclusive behaviour, finding her spread out in the sitting area of the library.

"Tell me, brother; what does it look like I'm doing?" She said, her eyes not moving from her current book.

"It looks like you're making a fine old mess of father's library."

She glanced up. "I don't suppose he'll know the difference."

Rabastan scoffed as she went on with her reading. He eyed the mountain of books she'd thrown carelessly across the floor, his lips thinning.

"I've been meaning to ask you," he said after a pause, stepping over the books towards where she sat, his shoes thunking on the hollow wooden floor with each step. "Have you had any visitors over this past week?"

"No."

"Huh," he sounded, bending over to pick up and old one. He dusted its cover. "Funny you should say that. As I'm sure you know, I am a man who very much appreciates my privacy. And if it is as you say, and you haven't had any visitors, then that means that it could only have been _you_ who saw fit to tamper with my wards."

That drew her attention.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

It became abundantly clear as he sent her an icy glare that Rabastan inherited none of the soft features his brother had.

He looked almost _menacing_.

No wonder the Dark Lord had come for Rabastan.

"Mess with my things again, _sister_ , and I will make sharing a bed with my brother the very least of your problems."

He continued to glare until she broke their eye contact, raising her eyebrows as if to say, 'noted'. He stormed off without another word, disappearing in the aisles of books. Bella only relaxed once she could no longer hear his footsteps.

 _Damn._

She'd thought her wards impeccable.

Perhaps Rabastan wasn't as simple-minded as she'd taken him to be.

She went back to her reading, comforted by the fact that he didn't seem to realise that she hadn't just messed with his wards, but had completely shattered them.

* * *

It took Bella another full week before she found what might've been her answer.

It was written offhandedly in an oversized, modern runic textbook that she'd initially overlooked. It went into absolutely no detail, but when she came across the line, ' _useful for summoning individuals_ ', she knew it was the way to go.

Summoning an individual was exactly what she was trying to do and would remove the chance of Rodolphus or Rabastan suffering from her actions.

It was the same idea she'd had in asking Rodolphus and her father, but without the need for the cooperation of the middleman.

It was perfect.

Once she knew what she was looking for, it took her no time at all to track down what she deduced to be the spell itself in a much older book. She was almost giddy upon the finding that she didn't need anything of his to summon him.

Just his name, a series of complex runes, and her willpower.

The first two, she had. The last, she had in excess.

 _It was perfect_.

After studying the procedure until she knew each step back to front, Bella could hardly contain herself. She was much too cheery the next day when she said goodbye to Rodolphus that morning, but she hardly had it in her to care.

The time had come at last. The day she would pledge herself and be free of the confines of the manor was finally upon her.

 _And she would see_ him _again._

Bella had decided upon performing the spell in the basement of the manor in the middle of the day while Rodolphus and Rabastan were at work. Should they return home early, or should the spell take longer than she planned for, she knew for a fact that neither of the brothers would ever think to look for her in the elves' quarters, which made the small space _perfect._

Book in hand and her heart thumping with excitement, Bella trudged down the damp, stone stairs and barged in through the small wooden door. The small elves all turned to look at her with wide eyes, some of them squeaking in surprise at her sudden appearance.

"Out," she instructed sternly. "Now."

The elves immediately put their things down, the room echoing in soft murmurs of, 'yes, Mistress', before they vanished with a series of _cracks_.

 _Disgusting creatures._

With her nose turned up, Bellatrix set up the small rickety table in the corner of the room and banished the elves' beds to clear the space. She turned to the page she'd marked and immediately set to work.

The spell required the right combination of runes drawn out in a perfectly round circle, four feet in diameter. Using her wand, she began to carve the runes into the stone, one by one.

 _Othila,_ for the separation of the intended from their current location.

 _Uruz_ , for powering the spell, for terminating and for a new beginning.

 _Thurisaz_ , for the gateway, for allowing the intended's entrance.

 _Ehwaz,_ for the intended's movement, for allowing the intended's passage and relocation through space to the gateway.

 _Eihwaz_ , for defence, for the safe arrival of the intended.

The physical act of carving the runes took far more time and effort than she'd anticipated. By the time she had the runes repeated sequentially, completing the circle, she'd lost close half of her guaranteed time.

 _No matter._

She would make quick work of the spell, of that she was sure. No spell was beyond Bellatrix Black.

Bella located the northernmost Othila and sat On the stone in front of it, outside of the circle with her legs crossed. Wand in hand, she held it out in front, the tip of the wood aligning vertically with the innermost point of the rune.

"Othila, uruz, thurisaz, ehwaz, eihwaz," she chanted softly, circling her wand as the book described. "Lord Voldemort. _Veni_."

A second time, she chanted.

And a third.

She pulled her wand in at the final ' _veni_ ', feeling a warm thrum through the wood. It felt just as the book described. She closed her eyes, her nerves building.

 _Any moment now._

She held her breath and waited and waited, and-

Nothing.

Silence.

"Damn it!" She spat to herself a full minute later, opening her eyes to scan the layout of the runes. She was sure she had done it right, she had _felt_ it, she was _fucking_ positive! She rose to her feet and crossed over to the book to reread the instructions.

She'd done it. She was sure of it. She'd done everything right, exactly as the book said, _it should have worked!_

" _Damn it to_ hell _-_ "

A loud _crack_ , one that was almost deafening, echoed in the enclosed space, washing out her words.

She turned on the spot to see robes appearing before her, resembling a cloud of black smoke. But they were not from where she expected it, not from inside the circle.

Seeing his form materialise, Bella threw herself to the ground at once, her palms and knees hitting on the cold stone painfully.

She didn't have the chance to consider that perhaps her spell actually _did_ work after all, because at the next instant, the tip of his wand was under her jaw, pushing upward hard enough that it threatened to break through the skin. The pressure forced her chin up, and for the first time in months, Bella's eyes laid upon _him._

But she did not see the man she had seen on her wedding day.

The man before her was not the charming one of her memory. His lips were not playful, his eyes were not curious. His magic was not calm. No longer was it only a subtly detectable hum of power.

Instead, it was raging. It was a storm, wild and angry, poised to strike down anything and everything in its path.

Bella had the sudden feeling she'd made a grave mistake.

He stared down at her, red eyes wide and threatening. They drifted over her face and as his magic seemed to _hiss_ , she feared he wouldn't recognise her.

But then she saw his lips twitch, and the fury in his magic seemed to settle, ever so slightly.

"You are the Black girl." His words were accusatory. " _Bellatrix._ "

" _Yes_." The word was pushed out of her lips by her excitement, without her meaning for it. _He remembered her name._ But then she remembered her place, and added, "yes, My Lord."

His upper lip shifted into a sneer and a sound with a mocking edge came from his throat. "You tried to summon me."

She lowered her head but was stopped by the wand tip.

"Get up."

She obeyed, rising as fast as she could. Back on her feet, she was reminded of how tall he was. It was only less than a foot between them, but this time, in such an enclosed space, it seemed like more.

"I apologise. I didn't mean... I only wanted- I only _want_ to offer myself. I want to serve you. Like my father before me."

He ignored her, his wand digging deeper into her skin to force her to meet his eyes. "I should kill you for your nerve."

She lowered her eyelids in the hopes he'd understand that if not for his wand, she'd be bowing. As if he'd heard her, his wand moved out from under her chin suddenly and Bella did exactly that, hunching her back as she saw his shadow migrating across the stone floor. She didn't dare look back up, but she felt it when he took his eyes off of her.

Moments passed, and the air seemed to grow thicker with each one. She yearned to speak, to _explain_ , to beg him to accept her, to tell him she'd only summoned him out of desperation, out of _loyalty_ , but-

"Who taught you this?"

At the unexpected question, she looked up to see him close enough to touch, brushing a hand over her book on the rickety desk.

"I- no one," she said, unable to keep the pride from her tone. "I taught myself."

"Truly?"

His eyes were back on her then. The limbal rings of his eyes were dark - black, even - leeching into the rich shade of red of his irises. Blood-like. In the centres, she thought she could see a hint of brown.

But only a hint.

They were beautiful.

 _Special._

"Yes."

A slight touch of what might've been curiosity slowly made its way onto his features. "Summoning organic matter is advanced, let alone the summoning a specific individual. Far beyond what you would have been taught in school."

Holding his eye contact was hard. Her instincts told her to look away. _Pleaded_ her to look away.

She ignored them.

"There is no magic that has yet challenged me."

There was no doubt the second time he hummed. He was mocking her.

"Such pride. So very much like your father."

He didn't say anything more as he slowly stepped back to cross the enclosed space, circling the circle of runes. She watched him rake his eyes over them, inspecting them one by one.

"You want to serve, you say?" He asked eventually.

"With every fibre in my being, My Lord."

He tore his eyes from the runes to pass them over her figure appraisingly, slowing as they passed over her hips. His sneer returned. "I don't usually take _applicants_."

She stepped forward without meaning to. "Please... I beg of you, allow me to show you my worth. Allow me to represent the House of Black."

His jaw twitched as he watched her.

"You want to prove yourself..." he started, slowly stepping back around the circle. "All right then. I will humour you."

"Thank you, My Lord," she breathed. " _Thank you._ I will do anything you ask of me. _Anything_ -"

"Abraxas Malfoy's wand," he stated, a touch of amusement in his words. "I want it. Get it. Bring it to me."

"But-"

"Ah, ah," he silenced her with a raised hand. "If you are to serve me, you will quickly learn not to ask questions."

She bit into her lip, hard enough that it _stung_ , to keep herself from speaking.

He watched her internal struggle, his eyes falling to her lips. The corners of his own slowly turned upward.

"Better," he said at last. "I will give you a week- _no_. A month. I won't have anyone saying that I am not generous. You have a month to get the wand."

"Yes," she accepted. "Thank you, My Lord. I won't fail you."

He hummed again, the same mocking sound. "We will see."

He slowly began to step backward toward the dark corner of the room, and Bella knew. Her time was up. He was about to leave her–

"How am I to find you?" She asked, unable to keep the question contained.

He continued to move back toward the stairs until she could barely see him, his eyes almost glowing in the dark. His lips turned upward, and he grinned.

It didn't suit him.

"If you are half the witch you claim to be, you'll figure it out."

And with another crack, he was gone.

* * *

She lay in her bed that night, tossing the remembrall her uncle Orion had given her for her thirteenth birthday.

It was filled with red.

 _Just like his eyes._

Her lips thinned as she continued to toss it, throwing it higher after each catch.

What was he playing at? _Abraxas Malfoy's wand?_

She thought of his words, of his hums, over and over, how they'd mocked her. She'd worked night and day to find him, for weeks and weeks, and he'd mocked her. Mocked her, like the _stupid_ remembrall was mocking her.

He didn't need another wizard's wand, she knew that. If her father was right about him, then he hardly needed his _own_ wand!

He just didn't think she could do it. He'd assigned her to thieving his right-hand man's wand as a _game_ , because he – just like every other man she'd ever met in her life – didn't think she could do it.

The remembrall hit the ceiling with a dull thud before it came back down, falling into her awaiting palms.

But this was not a silly little game to her. She was not a silly little girl, and she had a plan.

In two weeks' time, she knew it was to be Rodolphus and Rabastan's turn to host the Boy's Club at the manor.

Abraxas Malfoy was a member of the Boy's Club.

She threw the remembrall with enough force that when it collided with the ceiling, it smashed. Shards of glass and red ash fell down from the sky, clouding the air of her room like flecks of dried, shining blood.

She didn't flinch as the shards came back down, falling on her skin.

Abraxas Malfoy wouldn't know what hit him.


End file.
